


Waiting

by the_black_queen_of_hearts



Category: Hiddlestoner, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, War Horse
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Feels, Horses, Longing, Lost - Freeform, Sadness, Tragedy, War, War Fic, war horse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_black_queen_of_hearts/pseuds/the_black_queen_of_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your husband, James Nicholls goes off to war, and you promise to wait for him, even if it takes forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> ((This fic is sad, okay? It made me cry, it made my friends cry, it even made my teacher cry. Goddamnit. Please don't cry

You're standing next to your beloved husband, laughing as you have to reach up on your tip-toes to tousle his golden locks. He's made you so proud.

"Listen, James, you promise to write to me?" You clasp his hands in your own, shaking before he pulls you into a tight embrace, albeit carefully as not to hurt you or the child you carry.

"I promise, and I will sketch everything I see for you, my love, so it is as if you are there with me," he promises, mumbling the words into your hair before he lets go. Then as he gently caressing your cheek, he kisses your lips and presses a final sketch of his into your hands.

"Wait for me?" He asks as the Major, Jamie toots the horn of the rather fancy car.

"Hurry up man, we don't have all day!"

 

You gaze up at him, preserving every detail of his face into your memory, everything down to his beautiful green eyes.

"I promise." You nod, and kiss his cheek, before he turns and leaves, boarding the car and sliding into his place next to the Major.

"General Nicholls, you took your time... Ah, but you do have your reasons... It's a lovely wife you have there," he says to your husband as the driver revs the engines.

"She is indeed," he agrees, waving and smiling brightly to you as you wave back. Smiling through tears, you watch your husband, Captain James Nicholls leave to war.

 

You wait patiently every day, sitting in a chair in the small living room of the house you share together rocking back and forth in your chair. You look at the beautiful sketch of a rose your husband left you, rubbing your fingers over the petals which look so real, they appear to just 'pop' out of the pale parchment. You smile and place the sketch down on the table beside you, after all, there is no point in worrying, you have complete faith in him that he'll return to your side.

 

Months pass, your beautiful baby girl is born with his green eyes, and you cry while cradling her to your chest rocking her back and forth until she sleeps. You kiss her forehead and name her Rose. Roses are his, and your own favourite flower, and that love of roses is what brought the two of you together. You know he would have loved the name. No. He will, you remind yourself, staying firm that he will return to you.

 

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months and months into years. The war ends, and your beautiful baby girl grows into a gorgeous young woman. She too marries and has a child of her own. Yet you wait for your brave husband to return. Sitting by the window with his old jacket in your lap, you're weak with age hands clutch at the worn fabric. You are not the strong, fiery young woman you once were, but you still hold on to the tiny fragments of hope, that James Nicholls will return to your side. He will be unchanged by the flow of time and pick you up in those strong arms of his, then cradle you to his chest and carry you away just how he used to. You're so tired, a quick sleep won't hurt, will it?... Maybe, in your dreams, you'll see him again. No, not maybe, you will see him again. The thought of that makes you smile as you close your eyes, welcoming the dark.


End file.
